


Hiraeth

by demonessryu



Series: Words that are Hard to Translate [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Relationship, M/M, No Dialogue, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu
Summary: Erebor wasn’t what Kili had expected it to be.
Relationships: Kíli/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: Words that are Hard to Translate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040530
Kudos: 20





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> Hiraeth: a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or that never was.
> 
> I genuinely can't remember whether I've written this plot before or not. For my sanity's sake, let's say no.

Kili grew up with tales of Erebor, of splendor and grandeur and richness beyond compare. Dis, who had left Erebor at a young age, told him everything she could remember of it. The gaps she left were filled by Thorin, who remembered the vast kingdom in greater detail, and Kili’s tutors in turn told him what little Thorin managed to forget. Thus Kili grew up amazed at and in love with the kingdom he had only ever seen in illustrations and words. Ered Luin was where he grew up, but to him it was but a temporary residence. Kili was familiar with its halls and corridors, its twists and turns, the endless tunnels and hidden balconies, the sprawling hunting ground outside and the cavernous apartments inside. He liked its people as well, the familiar friends and the constant stream of curious visitors. Yet in his room deep in the mountain, there always was a bundle of essential clothes and items, ready to take with him at any moment should Thorin call for him to return home to Erebor.

It wasn’t until over six decades later that the call came for the line of Durin to reclaim Erebor. Kili was the first to arrive at Thorin’s side, his belongings having been quickly sent to the stable by his servants. He was disappointed to hear that he wouldn’t be departing with Thorin, who had other matters to attend to before joining the rest of the company. However, Kili had spent those six decades preparing himself for this moment. He understood the enormity of the task. It’s wasn’t a mere ride to the borders of Ered Luin to allay criminals and the occasional darker creatures. There was a great distance to cross and untold danger to overcome, to say nothing of the political matters that must be settled before they left Ered Luin under Dis’ governance. Thorin’s duties were greater than retaking their home. So, Kili left Ered Luin with relatives, close and distant, and loyal strangers without a glance back, eager to return to the mountain to which he belonged. When he saw Thorin again in a hobbit hole under a hill, he smiled widely, knowing that now their journey truly began.

Kili’s spirit was high throughout the arduous adventure. When it lowered after an unfortunate encounter with goblins, it was quickly revived by the first glimpse of the peak of the Lonely Mountain in the distance, so like what he imagine and yet so different. He asked Balin to describe it in great details afterward and convinced Ori to draw it for him. The picture was stored safely in his coat along with a blue stone from his mother and a comb from Thorin. He took it out on nights which felt too long and quiet, when the journey felt endless and aimless. It gave him an objective, a purpose. It reminded him of the home he was determined to see, the legacy that he was determined to continue. The murky darkness of Mirkwood kept him from seeing it – or indeed anything at all – but the feel of the rough paper under his fingertips gave similar sensations. At least it did at first.

Some time in Mirkwood, perhaps in the shadowy labyrinth of the forest or during the madness of hunger and thirst or in the sunless and moonless darkness of the elvenking’s dungeon, a seed of doubt began to grow in his heart. Kili had expected a difficult return to Erebor, so the near-constant perils didn’t bother him much. However, each story, each sight of the nearing Lonely Mountain made him question the true nature of Erebor. In Mirkwood, Kili saw the sprawling corrupted kingdom of an equally corrupted king. In Laketown, he heard stories of past destructions and felt the fear of the dragon that made the mountain kingdom his home. In the desolated land before the Lonely Mountain, where he could now see the true scale of Erebor, he saw a dark abandoned mountain, devoid of life but for the dragon within it. If once there had been riches and cultures then there was little sign of it today. The massive statues at the front were mere testaments to the heartless passage of time rather than a once-bustling dwarf kingdom. Kili didn’t see a kingdom, let alone a home.

The feelings persisted and even strengthened in the days of quiet treks to the mountain. He pulled out his water-damaged drawing to inspect under starlight. Ori had drawn tall trees flanking the mountain in accordance to Balin and Thorin’s stories. Their absence was disappointing but expected as the dragon had killed all things living around it. Similarly, Kili had expected the ruin of the city of Dale in place of the bustling city Thorin had often told him about on long summer days. It wasn’t the different sight that was most difficult for Kili to reconcile with. It was the lack of life that he had foolishly taken for granted and hadn’t anticipated. In his mind, Kili had added guards at every balconies, fires burning at night to illuminate the tireless lives within, dwarves busy with their trades, cultures and arts beyond imagination. Yet, before Kili, either day or night, now there was only a dark expanse of scorched land and the ruins of what might once had been splendid buildings were now nothing but old stones.

Seeing the infamous gold failed to make Kili feel better. It was the first material proof of Erebor’s magnificent history, but Kili wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t the amount of it – there was more than he had thought there was gold in the world – but rather how it seemed to emphasize what was absent. What was a hoard of gold without proper use? What was excess without means to giving it away to those who needed it more? What was luxury if one didn’t earn it by performing one’s responsibilities? In Ered Luin, there was a constant discussion about how to improve their people’s lives. They didn’t have what Erebor have, but they did their best to keep their people from being in want. The sight of gratefulness and just the sensation of knowing they had done as they should were rewards of their own. Here in Erebor, gold and jewels were hoarded and left to collect dust, to be admired but not used – and what for? Thorin’s changing behaviors further made Kili feel ill at ease. Kili chose a room furthest from the massive wing for the royal family. It had a balcony facing the west. He spent a great deal of time there thinking of a more familiar peak half a world away and things he had taken for granted and now lost, perhaps forever.

But, the stone balcony couldn’t protect him from the war soon brewing. Kili kept his opinions of Erebor to himself and thought only of its values to his people. He shot his arrows and when they ran out, used his swords. His mind was empty but for the determination to serve. He fought relying entirely on instincts and past trainings. But, war tested the most sharply honed instincts and most thorough trainings. The earth was red when metal pierced Kili’s flesh. Thorin’s frightened shout seemed distant although Kili knew Thorin was right behind him. Kili fell. There was no fear, only pride for falling while doing what he must, and if there was any discontent, it was because there were works still to be done. The last thing Kili saw was the Lonely Mountain. He wished it looked warmer and more familiar in his darkening eyesight. But, the kingdom he fought and was dying for was still only a mountain.

Kili woke in a strange room filled with elves and dwarves alike. They tended to him patiently, using magic as well as herbs to treat his numerous wounds. He drifted in and out of consciousness for days. One time he woke to find Fili on a bed next to him, and another to hear his caretakers whisper about Thorin. Recovery for all involved was long and difficult and Kili wasn’t ignorant of the chance that he would never again return to the physical state he had been in. He didn’t regret the sacrifice, seeing the first group of dwarves returning home from their exile. He heard and then watched as more came – some of whom had never been to Erebor at all and were only told about it, much like Kili had been. Around him, restoration was underway to bring history back to the present and prepare it for the future. The mountain was starting to turn into the rich descriptions of Kili’s childhood tales. With Thorin’s coronation it all seemed to be complete. The surviving Durin line stood beside their king as their subjects bowed before them. Kili smiled to Thorin and hoped to get used to the sight of the raven crown atop his head.

Then, there were new duties to get used to. There were significantly more than what Kili used to have in Ered Luin, especially as Erebor was reestablishing its power after decades of abandonment. It didn’t help that months of traveling had made Kili quite impatient of working indoors. He often gazed out of windows and balconies to observe the vast world he had journeyed through and think of the hardships he had overcome to be where he was today. Kili wasn’t so ungrateful as to deride his very privileged status. However, Kili felt restless. On slow days he would explore the unfamiliar corridors and tunnels, trying to acquaint himself with the workers and the kingdom. Sometimes Thorin accompanied him. He would point to this and that, and tell Kili how they had been decades ago before Kili was born. Time and neglect had changed many of them. It was often that halfway through their walk, Kili and Thorin would be enveloped by silence, both lost in private thoughts. Kili had a feeling that although they didn’t say it verbally, their thoughts ran in parallel lines of inexplicable discontent.

Dwarves across Middle Earth had longed to come home to Erebor, but now that Kili that he lived in it – in one of the finest royal apartments no less – he was unhappy. He felt obligated to feel content and even ecstatic as Fili and the rest of the company did, yet he didn’t. At the earliest opportunity to leave the oppressive mountain, Kili rode west till he saw Mirkwood – Greenwood, now – in the horizon. The Misty Mountains were but shadowy peaks, looking almost unreal in the distance. Kili left his horse and continued on foot, fixing his eyes on the elven realm that had frightened him so only months ago. But, only an hour later, he stopped. Greenwood was not his destination, nor was the mountains beyond it nor the land invisible from where he was standing. Even the fleeting thought of going to Ered Luin bore no real weight. What would wait for him there? All who was dear to him had moved to Erebor and he didn’t much care for the stones or trees without those they protected and nourished. Dejected, Kili walked back to his horse and found Thorin waiting for him. They rode back in a strange silence. It was only lifted when they reached Dale and they went to one of the few taverns that had opened there. They talked late into the night, when their voices were drowned by the din of other customers and they could more sincerely smile.

Almost a year after the reclamation of Erebor, Thorin tasked Kili with the responsibility of overseeing the reconstruction of Dale and repairing the relation with its people. It was a responsibility greater than any Kili had ever been given. He felt ill-equipped, having always excelled far more in combat than politics. However, what battle was he preparing for now? Erebor was theirs again and should there be any more battle, they now had a proper army to defend the mountain. Kili henceforth spent equal time in Erebor and Dale to report, observe and advise Thorin and the Bard despite his shortcomings in his tasks. Fortunately, the Bard showed remarkable patience in his inexperience, allowing him mistakes and discreetly taking him aside to correct him. Thorin’s weekly visit taught him the rest with a firmer hand, although with the added benefits of familiarity and similar dispositions. Kili and Thorin shared their frustration, hopes and determination, keeping each other company in stations that often felt alone. Even the heaviest loads were light when borne together.

Time made Kili as familiar with the twists and turns of the streets in Dale as he was with the halls in Erebor. He knew the forest growing around the mountain and the deep tunnels inside Erebor like the back of his hands. Although Kili couldn’t say that he was friends with all the Men, elves, and dwarves in the region, he could say that no one counted him as an enemy. The changes were so gradual that he didn’t realize any significant achievement until he found the old drawing Ori had made for him during their journey. Kili compared the worn image of the Lonely Mountain and Dale with what he saw before him. Again, he found the picture different from the reality. However, the difference he saw now was unlike the difference when he had first laid his eyes on the region. This was no longer an empty land haunted by ghosts of past glory. This was a kingdom bursting with lives, inhabited people with one foot steeped in history, hands holding on to the present, and eyes on the future. This wasn’t the kingdom he had gone to reclaim, but it was the kingdom he loved and was proud to serve.

Kili looked up from the drawing to Dale below and turned back to his princely room to the new but wonderful sight of Thorin lounging on his bed, entirely relaxed in privacy without the burden of his crown on his head. Smiling, Kili carelessly put the precious drawing away and joined him. In his lover’s embrace, safe and warm in their mountain kingdom while overlooking their thriving realm, Kili was finally at home.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of miss these two and the rich setting.
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
